


until it bled honey

by shanyuan



Category: Burgisverse
Genre: Bittersweet, Character Study, Elifija, F/M, Self-Indulgent, this is just me trying to figure out how to write eliseo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanyuan/pseuds/shanyuan
Summary: When he loved, he did so in a language only he knew how to speak. But it wasn't supposed to be like that.
Relationships: Sofijā Vijolite Cīrule/Eliseo Angelo Basco-Légazpi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	until it bled honey

**Author's Note:**

> the second chapter of [once the wildflowers grow again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009956/chapters/68822544#workskin), but in eliseo angelo's point of view. credits to [ayselz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayselz/pseuds/ayselz) for her lovely, lovely fic.

The ocean waves were comforting, as they've always been, and Eliseo knew that the tranquility beneath the crashing of tides was one of the things he loved most about the beach, among other things.

But no matter how much he insisted, he did not know how to love correctly.

He knew a lot of things—that wasn't one of them. Perhaps he did, back when he was dating Feng-mian, but even then he was never certain. He took from Fey until she no longer had anything left to offer him, and she gave him everything without question. That was not love, he thought. Love was not supposed to make you greedy. Love was supposed to feel like the waves—resolute and unequivocal, but still soft and delicate, all the same.

Eliseo's seen it before, however, in vastly different ways. When Julian looks at Raina; when he smiles from ear to ear at the mention of her name, and when he perks up from his seat when she enters the room, almost as if she livened the vicinity when she graced it with her presence. His brother was in love; and Eli was happy, first, before he was jealous.

Tala, too, seemed to have a grasp of what it was like to love. Eli could feel it, somewhat; she loved Julian, her twin brother, and she had her quirky ways of showing it. Underneath the amusement that her eyes held whenever she asked Eliseo to stop taking a video of a heavily intoxicated Julian, there was care, there was concern, and although it was only faint—it was still there. She loved in secret, in ways not known to many, and Eliseo was, once again, riddled with unyielding jealousy.

Chesa loved life. Her energy gave it away. His sister was sunbeams and radiance in human form; always, always overfilled with joy when it came to the things she absolutely adored. She beamed at each turn, as if there was wonder in every corner. She loved a lot of things, Eliseo was one of them, and when Chesa loved, she grinned whole-heartedly until the people that surrounded her broke out into genuine fits of delight and enjoyment. Eliseo could never be jealous of her—she was too bright, too colorful, for him to ever grow envious of.

Nemesio was harder to grasp. Perhaps he loved something, once, but it hurt him to the point of no return. Eliseo has never been able decipher the contents of his mind. Some days, Eliseo speculated that the only thing Nemo loved was the swirling rage inside his system, because it comforted him, and it protected him from the people who came too close. Eli didn't understand. He was not sure if he wanted to understand. 

He did not know how to love correctly. Over time, he forced himself to believe that the gods from up above or down below cursed him with the lifelong ability to love in all the wrong ways possible.

Because when he loved, he did so unconditionally, and perhaps that was the reason why he didn't know how—because the way he loved forced him to give up all that he had to offer; and just the thought of giving and giving and giving until he was rendered empty scared him tremendously. Because if other people were just as selfish as he was, then he knew the heartache was inevitable.

Eliseo wanted to love in pieces, not all at once, because the heartbreak was threefold whenever it was; it was harsher. 

Back then, Fey loved him the same way he did—unconditionally, to the point of devotion and dependency. He never loved her, but he knew he liked the way she loved him; and he took from the people that loved him until his grip was tight around the vestige of their adoration. He would not cease until he was satisfied. Eliseo was too selfish, too confused, too chaotic, to ever love correctly. He was not meant to love, maybe he was meant to take, but he was not meant to indulge in the satisfaction of loving someone properly.

When he loved, he did so in a language only he knew how to speak. But it wasn't supposed to be like that.

The leaves of the palm trees rustled with the wind, echoing soundly inside his ears. He curls his toes on the sand, a sigh escaping his lips. 

“If you're waiting for someone to push you in the water, I can do it.” 

Her voice was always monotonous. He knew even without looking that it was Fey who was talking, with the same look of nonchalance she always fashioned.

“No thanks. I'll swim later. I'll keep you in mind, though.”

“You're the one who organized all of this, yet here you are, looking as glum as me.” She laughs, nudging his shoulder lightly. Eliseo only smiles apologetically.

“Just thinking about a lot of things. We used to go to a lot of beaches back then, didn't we?” When he finishes his question, her face contorts to form an unpleasant expression, sticking out her tongue at him. He rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yuck. I don't know why you're bringing that up, but yes, Eliseo, we went to a lot of beaches when we were dating.” Amusement clings onto the edges of her voice for the first time today.

“We were a mess,” he stretches his arms, basking under the heat of the sun. Soon, he turns his head to peer at his friend, closing his eyes as he lowered his head sheepishly. “I'm still sorry about the things I did, you know.”

“You didn't do anything.”

“That's the point! Two years of dating, and I never _did_ anything.”

She snorts. “You did something. But you just didn't love me.”

They fall into comfortable silence moments after she's done talking. None of them were bothered by their complicated history now, surprising as it was, because they were close friends in high school first before they were lovers—and reverting back to their platonic dynamic was easier than the two of them expected.

* * *

Eliseo has seen one more person love.

The journey to the front of his best friend's—Sofija—hotel room was brisk. The air was warm, and the carpeted floors of the hotel comforted his bare feet. He was in a rush. The sun was low enough that he wouldn't sweat in front of the camera, but the rays were high enough to accentuate his facial features. 

“‘Fija? Is ‘Fija here?”

There were bustling footsteps behind the door. He was certain for a while that it was one of the hotel's crew, tending to the residual dust from yesterday's clean up. He hears the sound of her voice, however, serenading his ears until it bled honey. When the door swings open, and his eyes lock onto hers firmly with fondness, the world falls away.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

Sofija loved cautiously. There would always be some sort of restraint hidden somewhere in the depths of her emotions—he wasn't skilled enough to search for it, but he knew it was there. No matter how wary, though, seeing her love was Eliseo's favorite. Her smile would gleam along with her eyes, and however cautious she may be, she was always adept at hiding it, at shrugging it away. Her love was too pure, too enchanting, and he wanted nothing more than to be on the receiving end of it; he knew, then and there, that if she loved him, he would never take and take all that she had to give. When she loved, she spoke in volumes he could barely understand—but she, on the other hand, seemed to have his entire language memorized, almost as if she'd known him for numerous lifetimes.

There was something about her in that moment that made his emotions fluctuate into various highs and lows, his heart reaching heights he could only dream of. Alas, the world resumes turning just as he was beginning to decipher his sudden breathlessness.

The waves of the ocean were faint in his head.

“Hi, Eli. What's up?”

Eliseo smiles widely, the stress he accumulated from earlier dissipating along into the humid atmosphere. He extends his hand, gesturing for her to take it. “I'm filming a vlog. Come with me!”

Her eyes fall onto his wrist. His heart drums against his chest nervously, but he doesn't let his exterior waver. Did she not want to take it? That shouldn't matter to him.

But then, she nodded at him in response, so he took her by the wrist carefully, and ran.

Her hand was cold against his skin. He felt something akin to bitterness when he realizes that he wasn't the only one who was graced with the opportunity to hold her hand—but he disregards the thought as soon as it comes in. The light engulfs the two of them whole once they were out of the hotel, maintaining a steady pace as to make sure that Sofija didn't trip in her steps.

If his grin grew wider when he saw hers, then he would never admit it.

He could not love her—at least, for now, he thinks to himself. Because Eliseo was not meant to indulge in the satisfaction of loving someone properly.

But he swore to himself, when he saw her smile under the sun, that if he was blessed with the chance to love Sofija Vijolite, he would love her in varying currents, not all at once.

Eliseo chuckles. He would have to consult the cards tonight.


End file.
